By the Sword

chapter Twenty



The heavy rain had soaked through Queen Roselyn’s cloak by the time they reached General Edandir’s camp. Uittan had told her nothing the entire way there. They dismounted from their dragon steed, and she followed him into a small, white tent.

Inside was a girl, asleep on a thickly blanketed bed. Several bandages were bound tightly around her limbs. A surgeon was feeling her pulse.

Edandir nodded at Queen Roselyn and Uittan.

“Your Majesty. Prophet.”

“How is she?” asked Uittan.

“Her body has grown weaker every hour,” he said.

“Can we be alone with her for a moment?” asked Uittan.

The surgeon nodded solemnly and left the tent.

“Why, it’s Talya!” cried Queen Roselyn.

“She is the knight with whom I wanted to speak when I came to Sanctus with you. She has completed the mission that God called upon her to do, but at a great cost. If only I had been so faithful when I was that age.”

“Is she going to be alright?” asked Roselyn.

Uittan did not answer.

Roselyn felt guilty for hiding safely away in Sanctus while soldiers and knights far younger than she were risking their lives for their God and country. She hoped that Edandir’s daughter would pull through. He would be heartbroken a second time if Talya passed away.

Uittan placed the sack that he had been carrying at the foot of Talya’s bed. He laid his hand on her forehead and prayed in a tongue that Roselyn had never heard before. He did so for several minutes.

Roselyn knelt down, placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, and prayed silently.

Uittan stopped and smiled at Roselyn.

“Thank you for praying with me,” he said.

“It is the least that I can do for her. I am her queen.”

“We must be off again.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the battle.”


Jalarn stood alone in a world of black. He could not even see his hands when he held them right in front of his face.

“Jalarn…” hissed a familiar voice.

It didn’t seem smooth or hypnotic this time. Instead, it was hideous and chilling. It was the devil, and this time Jalarn knew exactly what he was.

Jalarn backed away from the voice, but it only came closer.

“Jalarn!” shouted the wretched, raspy voice.

I remember now. Ittonifer threw me down that chasm. I am… I must be… dead?

This was it then. He would pay now for what he had done to so many innocent people, for not putting his faith in the Savior. It was over for him. He hoped that somehow he would have the strength to bear the agony and loneliness that he knew would torment him forever.

Forever. Oh my God! I am a fool.

Cold fingers clenched themselves around his arm, digging their sharp claws deep into his skin.

“Come with me. The master has been waiting for you.”

So, this is not the prince, then. I should have known.

Jalarn couldn’t see it, but he imagined that the thing, whatever he was, was ugly and decaying.

He felt hopeless.

“Who are you?”

“Surely you know. We were very close, you and I. I was the voice inside your head. Oh yessss. I occupied your young, strong body the day that the old warlock anointed you. We were one. The master had such high hopes for you. Pity. Though, you would have ended up here soon enough.”

The evil spirit broke into mad laughter then, sending a chill through to Jalarn’s soul. That’s all he was now. A soul. Hell had been waiting to rip him from his body all that time. His life had been such a waste.

The darkness never left, but scorching heat pressed into his body. They had to be standing at the outskirts of Sheol. Once they went through the gate, Jalarn knew that there was no going back. He wanted to fight the demon, but he was powerless. He could barely move. He felt so tired. He had never felt so weak in all of his life.

A deep voice from somewhere above sang a soft, sad tune. Jalarn could not understand the words, but he instantly knew who was singing it. Suffocating sadness burned him from the inside.

God had truly loved him. He had tugged on Talya’s heart to spare him in Hunter Forest. He had showed him the Bible verse in Talya’s scroll by turning it red. He had suffered for him on the cross. He had done all He could, but Jalarn still had not believed Him. It was too late.

The cry grew louder. Jalarn was sure that it had reached the depths of hell. Jesus had lost one of His beloved. The weeping didn’t stop.

The extent of what Jalarn had turned his back on hit him like a massive wave. This time, a loving voice whispered to him. Its closeness made him shake.

“Oh, how I love you so, Jalarn.”

The holy presence left him faster than a whiplash. Jalarn was alone.

“I’m so, so very sorry.”

The hopelessness of eternal death began to encircle him.

Jalarn covered his face as he wept, trapped in his self-appointed everlasting prison.

The demon at Jalarn’s side cackled, digging his claws deeper into Jalarn’s arm.

No, no, no!


The earth tremors had ceased. The Malinorians regrouped and charged back toward what remained of Sanctus’ army.

The former magicians, protected by the large crack in the earth, continued to shout out Scriptures from The Great Scroll. It was clearer than ever that God’s power was far stronger than the devil’s magic. It was the reassurance that Edandir’s people needed.

Edandir fought his way through ten more Malinorians and then caught a glimpse of Ittonifer. The man was stalking toward Tanel, whose back was turned. He was fending off two enemies with his sword. The young archer would not have a chance against a third swordsman, let alone an expert one.

Edandir raced toward Tanel until a heavyset Malinorian blocked his path.

“Tanel, look out behind you!” Edandir yelled.

Tanel spun around and blocked Ittonifer’s powerful strike.

“Lord, protect him.”

Edandir focused his attention back to finishing off the large Malinorian in front of him.

A dragon screeched from above the raging battle. Edandir squinted to make out who the two riders were. Uittan and Roselyn.

What is she doing here?

Edandir jabbed his enemy in the belly, sending him backward into the mud. He glanced back over to where Tanel and Ittonifer had been. Tanel was nowhere to be seen, but Ittonifer was on his way toward the place where Uittan and Roselyn had landed.





It had been many years since she had seen him, but Roselyn knew that it was he coming for her. She recognized his solid form and determined walk even in the thick mist. She had hoped that this day would never come, but it had.

Ittonifer was going to kill her.

She looked desperately at Uittan.

“Are we just going to stand here?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“But we are unarmed! He will kill us.”

She knew that he would. Killing was what Ittonifer did best. And there was nothing that he hated more than a traitor.

Ittonifer was still several paces away, but his booming voice rattled her.

“Roselyn!” called Ittonifer.

Roselyn cowered behind Uittan. She thought that she had finally overcome the fear that plagued her for so long, but she had been wrong.

“Do you honestly think that old man is going to protect you?”

The prophet took a step toward Ittonifer.

“Not by my own power, but by God’s.”

Ittonifer laughed hollowly.

“There is nothing that He can do that my lord’s power cannot do.”

“You are very wrong.”

Ittonifer glared menacingly at Roselyn. She backed up more, getting closer to the deep trench, while Uittan stepped forward still.

“Trust in Me, daughter.”

But no one has ever hurt me in the way that Ittonifer has. Now he is here to kill me.

From across the depression in the earth, several cloaked men were shouting something. It sounded very familiar.

“A thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee.”

Roselyn had heard that verse from the Great Scroll many times, but its revelation hit her like a tidal wave as God spoke gently to her spirit.

“Believe that I will deliver you. Trust in My strength, not in your own. Fear not.”

Roselyn took a deep breath and then slowly took her place beside Uittan.

She faced her adversary as a strong queen should, ignoring her trembling legs. Along with the men, she began to quote the very same Scripture that the giant-slaying king of old had written of the Lord.

Uittan, who had been silently praying up until that point, joined in and shouted with a loud voice. If God had saved them from the wolves, surely He would protect them from the wicked ruler.

Ittonifer broke into a sprint, but the ground trembled and the air filled with the sound of drums and horns. Ittonifer stopped in his tracks and faced the direction of the noise.

It was the first time that Roselyn had seen him ignore an easy kill like that. She squinted and stared at the horizon. It was another army, but they were wearing green capes. Her heart raced.

“It’s Chira! They have come to help us!” she cried.





Ittonifer yelled in rage. The traitorous dogs from Chira raced into the sea of Malinorians. He should have never trusted that king. No matter. Their army was small. Two thousand extra enemies couldn’t defeat the imperial army.

Ittonifer spun around to face his wife. Roselyn had moved to higher ground with Uittan, but she was still staring at him with the same defiance that she had the first day he laid eyes on her. He never should have allowed himself to fall for the stubborn wench’s beauty.

They stared at one another for several moments. With that prophet at her side, it was not likely that he would be able to get to her. His grimace turned into a smirk. If he couldn’t kill Roselyn, he would kill the one person that she would give her life for.

His mind flashed to a place and time many years earlier. Over seventeen years ago, Ittonifer had sensed that Roselyn was plotting to leave him. But then she had become pregnant.

It had been Roselyn’s worst fear that he would kill the baby if it were a female. As fate would have it, the child was a girl.

Ittonifer had taken the infant from Roselyn’s fragile arms just moments after she had given birth. He brought the baby to the city’s butcher. Many Malinorian families brought their newborn daughters or malformed sons there. Babies were a delicacy among Malinor’s elite.

When the moment came that the butcher was about to decapitate the child, Ittonifer stopped him. Ittonifer had realized then that Roselyn would hate him forever if he killed her firstborn. When he had returned to Roselyn’s room to tell her that their daughter had been spared, she had already fled his castle.

He had decided to keep the child alive as a bargaining tool with other rulers and kings. He knew that she would grow up to be beautiful like her mother. It turned out that he had never needed her for that. He had simply taken the other countries by force. But it had been satisfying to know that Roselyn was alive somewhere, thinking that her daughter was dead all this time. She deserved at least that much pain for turning her back on him and leading a rebel country.

Today, Ittonifer would finish the job that he should have done in the first place. Chrissa was no longer his daughter, but a traitor of his empire. Like her mother.


Hundreds of Malinorians fell at the hands of the Chirian army. Edandir’s army fought with a renewed vigor, with the relief of the other soldiers.

After taking down several more enemies, Edandir searched again for Ittonifer. The man had been making his way toward Roselyn and Uittan earlier. He had intended to stop the man before his unexpected ally had unleashed its pandemonium on the battlefield. It had caught the Malinorians off guard again.

Ittonifer was running out of surprises.

The general scanned the field once again for Malinor’s cruel ruler. Ittonifer was standing at the base of the hill that Uittan and Roselyn stood on. He blinked. They were conversing with one another.

Edandir could not imagine what Roselyn would have to say to that man, or why Ittonifer would be wasting his time talking rather than fighting. Very strange.

Edandir started in their direction. Now was the time to finish off Ittonifer for good.


“She’s alive,” said Ittonifer.

Roselyn’s heart pounded against her ribcage, as her knees grew weak.

“You are cruel,” said Roselyn.

Alive? No… it can’t be. There’s no way that he would have spared her.

“I spared Chrissa’s life that day, but you had already left me. All of these years you have lived without her while she has been here with me. I enjoyed the irony for a time, but today I will finally kill her.”

Roselyn trembled. All of that time, Chrissa had been existing as the daughter of Malinor’s oppressive ruler. She really was alive. A living young woman now.

But he said that he is going to kill her.

Ittonifer had already turned away from her, walking back toward the battle. Roselyn started to run down the hill, but Uittan gently held her back.

“Wait! Why would you kill her now? Your own daughter. The one that you have raised!”

Ittonifer stopped.

“She turned her back on me and has joined Sanctus… like you.”

“Where is she?”

“Fighting, but not for long.”

“Don’t fear, Roselyn,” said Uittan.

Roselyn ignored the prophet.

“Ittonifer, stop! You can have me. Just don’t touch my little girl!”

He didn’t stop this time. He started running toward the raging battle. She would never be able to save Chrissa from him. Her child was in trouble and she couldn’t even help her.

“God, save my baby girl!” she cried.

Enveloped in a cloak of helplessness, Roselyn sank to her knees and wept.


Ittonifer was stalking toward Chrissa now.

Instead of retreating, Chrissa saw Ittonifer and started to run toward him.

“Chrissa, get away from him!” shouted Edandir.

He will kill you!

The girl jumped into the air and swung a diagonal arc with her sword at her father’s stomach. He merely stepped aside and avoided the blow. With Ittonifer’s superior size and skill, she did not stand a chance. He sent Chrissa’s sword flying out of her hand with one powerful, perfectly angled swing.

Chrissa dove for her weapon and managed to block Ittonifer’s next stab just in time, but now he had her legs pinned to the ground. He began to press all of his weight down on her arms, forcing her own sword down toward her neck.

“Stop!” Edandir shouted.

Edandir broke into a sprint. He was not going to allow Ittonifer to end the life of the child that he never deserved.





Out of breath, Chrissa knew that she would be dead soon. The blunt end of her sword was almost at her neck. She closed her eyes, avoiding her father’s cold glare.

“I always knew that you hated me, but how could you do that to Jalarn?” she said.

“He meant as little to me as you always did. I only use those that benefit what I want.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. It would be the last one she would ever cry.

The blade of her weapon grazed her neck.

“Edandir!” Ittonifer snarled.

Ittonifer leaped away from Chrissa just in time to stop Edandir from impaling him.

Chrissa managed to stand, but she could barely see through her tears.

“Chrissa, get out of here,” said Edandir.

She ignored Edandir and came at her father while his back was still turned away from her.

Ittonifer spun around and then slammed his gauntlet into her jaw. She stumbled backward and landed on her backside. Weaponless and dazed in the muddy grass, she shut her eyes until the dizzy spell passed.

She opened her eyes to see Ittonifer standing over her again. This time she looked him right in the eyes. He had to be a monster. No human could be that heartless.

“I’m about to do what I should have done to you years ago. You always were disappointing, but I never took you to be a traitor.”

Chrissa spat at him, shaking as rage surged through her.

“You betrayed me from day one, Father.”

“Wench.”

Ittonifer drew back his elbow, ready to drive the blade of his sword straight through her, but Chrissa looked past her father at Edandir.

The general blocked Ittonifer’s lethal stab with his sword. Here was a man that actually cared for her.

Ittonifer laughed hollowly as he swung his sword at Edandir’s stomach. The general blocked it.

“Get out of here, Chrissa!”

Chrissa got up and ran away, fighting another wave of nausea. Too weak to rejoin the battle, she ran to a clearing, away from the other warriors, and watched Edandir and Ittonifer fight one another.

“You know I’ll finish her after I’m through with you,” Ittonifer sneered.

Chrissa’s stomach knotted and she vomited.